


A Strange Gift

by TheAntleredPolarBear



Series: Maul Skywalker [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 14:58:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8213263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAntleredPolarBear/pseuds/TheAntleredPolarBear
Summary: A strange woman leaves a silent, scared child in the care of the Coursec family, and Shmi is tasked with his care. The story of how Shmi and Maul came to know each other, and how their bond began to form.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that I'm white and have never been a slave, so this is probably going to be completely inaccurate. I would be really glad of any constructive criticism anyone has to offer, and if I get anything really offensively wrong, please let me know. I'd rather have to rehash this fic/AU or scrap it completely than have people be hurt. Thanks!

Shmi Skywalker isn’t allowed to speak ill of her mistress. In fact, around her mistress, she is often forbidden from speaking at all. But if she could talk, she would talk of how much she hates her. Mistress Rynii is a sharp-featured, sharp-tongued young woman, with a narrow nose and thin face that seems permanently moulded into a haughty sneer. Shmi is forced to do near everything for her, which would be bad enough on its own, but she’d never given Shmi so much as a ‘thank you’ for all her hard work. Even Master Gaexan could manage the occasional word of thanks. Mistress Rynii also has a terrible habit of carrying around the remote that controlled Shmi’s slave transmitter. She rather enjoys threatening to detonate it over every small mistake.

They’d travelled into town that day, and Mistress Rynii had found many excuses to ghost her thumb over the button that would end Shmi’s life if pressed. Thank the Maker they are almost home. Mistress Rynii always seems to mellow out somewhat around her husband.

The stranger approaches Mistress Rynii as they walk up the drive. They are swathed in long, red robes, with a short conical hood that doesn’t hide all of their thin, apricot hair. Long, pale fingers ending in talon-like nails protrude from bell sleeves, and coil around her mistress’ upper arm, almost tight enough for the nails to break her skin. They speak in an accent that Shmi can’t place, with vowels that roll about their mouth with every word. Mistress Rynii stares at the stranger with eyes widened in surprise. The stranger addresses her with an urgent tone that Shmi manages to decipher as she starts to move closer.

“Please take him. Save him. I can’t keep him safe any longer, you must help!”

Shmi walks a little closer, wondering just who the stranger is referring to. She sees no man beside the stranger. However, as she moves around to grip the woman by the arm, the tiny hooded figure standing beside her comes into view, reaching up an arm to hold the stranger’s hand.

“Take your hand off me at once!” Mistress Rynii snaps, and yanks her arm from the stranger’s grip. She turns to Shmi, eyes full of fury. “Help me, you useless little girl!”

Shmi shakes herself out of her shock. “I’m sorry, Mistress,” she says, before she pushes the stranger further away, and stands between her and her mistress.

“No, no, you must help him!” the stranger pleads. “You must help my son!”

“Rynii?” Master Gaexan must have come to find them. Shmi sighs in relief; the master will know how to deal with this. His wide hand falls on Shmi’s shoulder, and she retreats obediently. “Who are you? What business do you have with my wife?”

The stranger bows her head. “Please, sir, please...I seek only sanctuary for my child. He is in grave danger!”

“She grabbed me out of nowhere!” Mistress Rynii complains. “I think she bruised my arm, the mad woman! The child is stolen, I’ve no doubt.”

Master Gaexan ignores her, much to his credit and her chagrin, and instead keeps his focus on the stranger. “You want us to take your son? Are you sure?”

The stranger nods, grimly. “Please, save him.”

“Do you have a name for him?”

The stranger nods. “He is Maul.”

Maul? What a strange name. Shmi had always thought that maul was a word for tearing something apart. It seems like tempting fate to name a child such a thing. Perhaps it means something different in the stranger’s language.

Master Gaexan spends a few moments in quiet before Mistress Rynii breaks the silence.

“You’re not seriously considering taking this little brat, are you? Gaexan!” Shmi bites the inside of her mouth to stifle her anger. The stranger probably won’t allow them to take the child now. The poor boy will remain in whatever grave danger the stranger spoke of, all because of her Mistress’ selfishness.

If I were free, she thinks, I would take the child myself.

“I’m not considering it, Rynii, I’ve decided,” Master Gaexan says, firmly. “We will take the boy, my strange friend. You need not worry. He’ll be safe with us.”

The mortified look on Mistress Rynii’s face is endlessly satisfying.

The stranger lets go of the boy’s hand, and bows deeply. Shmi doesn’t register her leaving, but she must do, because a moment later she is gone.

Master Gaexan blinks as if confused, but quickly turns his attention to the boy. “Shmi, take the child to my private quarters. Get him cleaned up, and find him something to eat. I’ll go buy him some essentials, and when I come back I’ll find him a room.”

“Gaexan!” The master ignores Mistress Rynii once again, and instead hurries inside to fetch his travelling clothes.

Mistress Rynii shoves the hooded child towards Shmi with a noise of disgust. The boy shivers. Shmi desperately wants to tell her off, treating this poor child like an object of revulsion, but she holds her tongue, as good slaves do. She is no glutton for punishment. She softens her face, and kneels down to examine the boy.

It quickly becomes apparent to Shmi that this is not a human child. He’s near human, with hollow cheeks, a little nose, and two lips pressed tightly together. His head is adorned with a ring of tiny bumps, and his face…Shmi couldn’t describe it if she tried. It’s criss-crossed with patterns of red and black, sharp angles and diamonds and thick, black lines. He stares at her with glassy, yellow eyes, full of resignation. Shmi knows that look. She’s seen it on so many tiny faces. The expression of a childhood lost.

Shmi shakes the thought from her mind. It won’t do to lament for the poor child. Her sadness won’t help him, but perhaps her kindness will. She gives him a warm smile, perhaps the first true kind gesture he’s been shown in his life.

“Hello,” she says. “My name is Shmi. And you are Maul, is that right?”

The child doesn’t speak, just stares at her. He’s so thin it’s almost painful. He stands perfectly still, his hands straight by his sides, completely quiet.

“You’re safe now. The master will look after y...”

She had lifted her hands to gently smooth the clothing over the child’s shoulders, but the boy’s eyes had flooded with fear as she did so, and he’d taken a step back. Shmi withdraws her hands quickly. “Oh, no, dear, it’s alright. I won’t hurt you. Why don’t we go inside, hmm?”

Maul gives her a wary look over, but deigns it safe to edge a little closer.

“That’s right. We’ll find you something to eat, and some blue milk. Would you like that?”

The boy deems it safe to nod.

* * *

Master Gaexan’s private office is so large it’s almost obscene, all rich, plum-coloured walls, huge windows, polished wooden floor, and ornate embroidered rugs. A huge, carved desk sits in front of the largest rug, covered in pieces of flimsi and inactive datapads. There are shelves across one wall packed with datapads and even some books. Shmi had never seen a book before arriving here.

Maul stands very still in the middle of the carpet, as though frightened to touch anything. Shmi can’t say she’s unfamiliar with the feeling, but she knows she must be strong and unafraid, for his sake if nothing else.

She sends for a good square meal and a glass of water over the comlink, before she leads him into the master’s private ‘fresher to wash him. A toilet, sink, bathtub and ‘fresher stall are all placed strategically in the generous space, along with cupboards to store towels, soaps, and  other cleaning materials. Shmi shows him the ‘fresher, and he seems to understand, because he begins to pull off his clothes. Once stripped completely, he jumps into the cubicle, leaving the door wide open, and turns on the cold tap full blast. He turns his face upwards and starts gulping down mouthfuls of water. Shmi adjusts the water temperature to comfortable warmth, which he seems to enjoy, and sits by the entrance of the shower to keep an eye on him.

She can count every one of his ribs through the skin.

Presently, she realises Maul is watching her. His amber eyes are full of suspicion. Shmi gives him a reassuring smile, and reaches for a bottle of soap on the bathtub. She rolls up her own sleeves to demonstrate.

“Here. Watch me,” she says, kindly, and wets her hands in the shower spray. Once the soap is added, she rubs her hands to produce bubbles. “See? Do you want to try?”

Maul had momentarily dropped his guard to stare at the soap lather in curiosity and wonder. He’s probably never seen anything like it before, Shmi realises. Cautiously, he holds out his own little hands.

“Now, make sure you don’t get any in your eyes,” she warns him, as she applies a pea-sized blob of soap to his palm. “And none in your mouth either. Do you understand?”

He nods, and starts rubbing his hands together. He gasps as soap lather begins to form. Shmi tells him how to rub the soap over his body to clean himself, and the child obeys. He sniffs the soap bubbles, and even neglects Shmi’s warning to taste some, his little face scrunching up in response to the foul flavour. For the first time since Shmi met him this morning, he seems to be more intrigued than frightened.

That is, until the call bell chimes in Master Gaexan’s office.

The moment he hears the sound, Maul freezes in place. Then, before Shmi can react, he darts out of the shower stall, leaving a wet footprint on her apron, and starts running in place on the tile floor. Drips of water and soap suds start to fly as he pumps his arms in time with his steps, bones sawing under his skin. Shmi sits in shock for only a moment, but that’s all the time it takes for Maul’s wet foot to slip. Thank the Maker she’s close enough to catch him before he hits the floor! He falls against her outstretched arm, and she pulls him back slightly, away from the nearby bathtub.

Maul is once more perfectly still. His little mouth is agape, his hands still outstretched as if expecting to fall. Shmi doesn’t drop him, of course. Instead, she lifts him gently, and sets him back on his feet, this time making sure that he’s firmly on the ‘fresher mat. He looks, confused, from the steadying hand on his chest to Shmi and back again. She removes it, slowly so as not to scare him, but he continues to stare. His little knees start to shake with the sudden chill that comes with wet skin. Then he speaks the first words Shmi has heard from him.

“You catched me.”

“Of course I did, dear,” she replies, with a kind smile. “We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself. Would we?”

His eyes are wide with surprise. But he shakes his head. “No, Master.”

Shmi’s stomach contracts a little. She hates that word. It’s bad enough that she has to use it, but the sound of the word in a child’s mouth, let alone being directed towards her, is enough to make her want to vomit. “Oh, dear, you don’t have to call me ‘Master’,” she explains. She hides her distaste well. It’s not his fault, after all. It’s the fault of the bastard that made him subservient. “How about you call me Shmi?”

“Yes, Smee,” he replies, obediently.

Maul finishes his shower, and allows Shmi to drape a warm, dry towel around his spindly shoulders once he comes out. She sets him on the bath mat while she cleans up, before ushering him back out into the office for his dinner.

Some helpful soul has left a plate of meat and vegetables on the end table, along with a glass of blue milk. Shmi turns to smile at Maul, but he has already shot across the room to seize the cut of meat. The vegetables and milk, much like the towel, are left in a mess on the floor that Shmi will surely be punished for. Maul scuttles under the master’s desk and out of sight; the only clues to his continued presence are the sounds of gnawing coming from beneath it.

* * *

Master Gaexan had bought a fine crib for the child. Made of rich, polished wood, it sports a thick, soft mattress and downy pillows for the boy to rest his head on. He’d called up to ask Shmi to put Maul to bed, and to stay in his room until further notice to provide supervision. He’d even provided a floor bed for her, complete with a thin mattress. Shmi can hardly believe her luck.

She leads Maul into his new bedroom. It’s so large. At least ten slaves could sleep comfortably in this single room, perhaps more if they slept close together! She expects Master Gaexan will fill it with toys, datapads and furniture, more than Maul could ever possibly use. But it’s not his fault, of couse. He’s only a child. He stays as close as he can without touching her legs; the fall in the bathroom seems to have warmed him to her somewhat.

“This is your bed!” she says, kindly. She gestures to the grand crib. “Isn’t it marvellous?”

She turns, but Maul is no longer behind her. A glance around tells her that he has retreated into the far corner of the room, and is glaring at the crib. “Oh, dear. It’s alright. It’s nothing to be scared of. Why don’t you try it, hm?”

Maul simply presses his back hard against the wall. His eyes fix on hers, and they are full of such fear, such pleading...Shmi has to swallow back tears at the sight.

She knows she will not get him into the crib. More than that, she knows that it would be cruel to try. This poor child has already had enough fear to last him a good long while. She decides then, in that moment, she will not be one to add to it any more than she has to. So Shmi lifts his mattress and drags it to the corner. She collects his blanket and pillows on a second trip, and spreads them out to form Maul’s own little floor bed. Just like hers. “There,” she says, patting the mattress down and folding the blanket over. “Is that a little nicer, hmm? No bars. I have just the same. We’ll both be safe as can be.”

Maul feels the blanket for himself, and crawls on top of the mattress. He looks around, presses his hands to the solid walls that form the corner, examines the pillows, and eventually determines the makeshift bed to be safe. He keeps his eyes locked on Shmi as he lowers himself to the mattress, stiffly, as though ready to spring back up at any moment.

“I’m going to put the blanket over you, alright?” she warns him. She grips the corners, and gradually, ever-so-gently, lifts it to stretch it to its full length. Maul watches it approach, wide-eyed, but remains still. Even as Shmi drapes it over his tiny body, he barely flinches at all. “There you go. What a brave little man you are.”

He doesn’t close his eyes or snuggle down, but Shmi thinks he’ll settle soon enough. She wishes him goodnight, and leaves him in his little corner. She folds herself into her own bed, facing her young roommate.

The last thing she sees before she drifts into sleep is a pair of shining, amber eyes in the lamplight.


End file.
